


/usr/include/asm/errno.h

by 105NorthTower



Series: Beforehand [5]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Mistaken Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29582199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/105NorthTower/pseuds/105NorthTower
Summary: Exeter College, Oxford. Has nobody got any lectures to go to?
Relationships: Nick Herbert & Cormoran Strike
Series: Beforehand [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168427
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14





	/usr/include/asm/errno.h

**Author's Note:**

> 'You don't want to judge Spanner by the amount of deodorant he puts on to come here.' Lethal White

Nick's room was up three flights of stairs and along a crooked corridor, next to the communal bathroom. He knocked on the door and a high-pitched voice answered, "Wait a minute."

That wasn't Nick. Had he scored last night? AGAIN? Medics, even prematurely balding ones who had a strange obsession with shit, seemed to get action all the time. It was unseemly. It was unhealthy. It was ... unfair.

He was on the wrong bloody course.

Just as he was about to leave, the door opened.

A waft of BO crossed him as he peered into the darkness of Nick's room. At first he couldn't see who'd opened the door, but then he spotted a gangly figure holding the door handle. They were super model thin, dressed in drainpipe jeans, a Nirvana t-shirt and trainers. Their wrists were piled with many yarn bracelets, copper wristbands and leather thongs and they had long, blonde, unwashed hair that hung over their face in tendrils, like a bead curtain. 

It felt weird saying "they" but he wasn't really sure what sex he was looking at. Not Nick's usual type, either. He was the connoisseur of the neat cinnamon bun, the folder pressed to the bosom, the pen behind one ear and the delicate, ink-stained fingers. PPE, languages, law students, those were his natural prey. This was ... different.

"I'm looking for Nick?"

"He's gone for milk. Back in a mo." The figure with the high, reedy voice beckoned him in and then scratched at its crotch and made a bolt for the bathroom.

Male. Definitely. That was new. Bloody hell! Medical students! It's just a three-year bacchanalian orgy interrupted very occasionally by lectures and a dissection. He went over to the window, pulled back the curtain and threw up the sash. 

Nick's room seemed to have been assimilated by the Borg since his last visit. Several hard drives littered the desk, coffee table and bedside cabinet and the spaces in-between had grown a vascular system of wires. In the midst of the chaos, a beep sounded, followed by some papery chittering.

"Oggy!" A hand clapped him heartily on the shoulder.

"Well, hello, Tom Jones! Did you get biscuits?"

"Eh?"

He waved towards the unknown quantity in the bathroom. "Third time this week! I hope you're using protection, you absolute slut."

Nick smiled, "Going through a lean patch, Oggy? Want five minutes with my little black book?"

"You disgust me. What's the name of that classicist you snogged last week?"

"Sophie?" Nick's face suddenly took on a dreamy quality, as if he was reminded of something pleasant.

"There's a word for people like you ... yeah, I will have tea "

"Lucky?"

"No."

"Talented?"

"No."

"Charming?"

"I could expose you for what you really are, y'know? Do the world a big service. Ilsa thinks butter wouldn't melt. Whereas the life you're living ... the News of the World might pick it up."

"Ilsa and I agreed to sow our oats."

"I don't think she was expecting you to turn into the CEO of Ready Brek, though."

The toilet flushed, the pipes rattled and the unknown quantity came back in, now smelling like BO overlaced with Imperial Leather.

"Oggy, this is Dan."

He held out his hand, "Nice to meet you, Dan."

Dan gave his hand a slightly soapy shake.

"No-one calls me Dan."

"Oh?"

"Well, only Nick." 

He shook his head at Nick. "Why's that then?" _Some sort of roleplay/fetish?_

"Everyone else calls me Spanner."

He was dimly aware of Nick, busting a gut in the background.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think we know Spanner's real name. I've read other Spanner fics where he was Dan and I thought that fitted with Nick really well.
> 
> I hope it's clear that Strike's motivation in this scene is 100% envy and 0% homophobia.


End file.
